


Light Walks

by mimesere



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Episode: s04e09 Long Day's Journey, Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:59:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1989027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimesere/pseuds/mimesere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Los Angeles in a state of permanent midnight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light Walks

The first week after the sun goes dark, there are riots.

It's Los Angeles; there are always riots.

You get that week off, and the next, though if you're being entirely honest, it's mostly just that you take that second week off and no one fires you when you come back. You wouldn't bother, but your landlord wants rent, and it's the only job you've got, so you go back to work not-so-bright and early Monday morning. And as you're giving Half-Caff Amaretto Soy Latte his order, you wonder if you're ever going to see the sunrise through the windows, bright and hazy through the smog.

*

It's easy to lose track of time without the sun. It used to be that you'd be blinded during the morning shifts, even with the dark tinted glass standing between you and the rest of the world. People aren't coming in a lot. It's not really surprising, what with the apparent apocalypse and all, but it gives you a lot of time to think.

You think that you're going to go to church tonight.

A couple of SC film students come in and you think, not for the first time, that it's kind of funny how recognizable they are. Not them, specifically, even though you know the dark haired guy with glasses is a double shot espresso and the girl with the fluffy blonde hair that talks really fast usually only gets an iced mocha. There's this kind of vague uniform that just about every film student you've ever met wears, somewhere between preppy and retro alternative.

"I had to totally redo my shooting schedule. I've got two more days of night shoots and then I don't know what I'm going to do. I didn't budget for that many lights." The guy leans over and squints at the menu over your shoulder. "Yeah, can I get the coffee of the day with an extra shot?"

"You could just shoot the whole thing at night." The girl shrugs and orders quickly. Iced mocha, like you thought. "I heard that they were setting up a lighting array at Griffith."

You'd heard that too. Read it, actually, because some guy left a trade lying around and you had nothing better to do except watch more depressing coverage of the freak eclipse.

"Yeah, and how long is that gonna last?"

"Mmm. L.A. isn't on the Edison grid, right? So a while, maybe."

They grab their drinks and settle at a table near the window.

"It's like an ad for Armageddon out there," says the guy.

"Movie or biblical occurrence?"

"Movie." He takes a sip of his coffee. "And I guess biblical occurrence too."

*

You read an article once about people who worked nights. It was all something like the human body wasn't supposed to do that, so it threw off the internal clock and the people ended up sleep deprived and kind of nutty. It explained a lot about the people you saw at the 24-hour Ralph's.

That article's been coming to mind a lot and you wonder if that's what's happening to the city. The lunch crowd trickles in quietly, little dribbles of zombified humanity and even though it's not a rush like normal, it's still more than you can handle completely on your own. You send the new girl, pierced and punkish, around to do all the stuff you really don't want to. It's tradition. So she goes around wiping down tables and refilling the milk and the creamer, and separating out the packets of artificial sugar from the good stuff.

One time, you catch her staring out the window at the sun, or lack thereof.

"Hey," you say. "You shouldn't stare at it like that."

"Hm?"

"Like an eclipse, you know? You're not supposed to stare at it directly. You'll go blind." You have no idea if that's true. You heard it once and it sounded good, but mostly she just looks at you like you're stupid. "Like Galileo," you add. You feel like an ass.

"Oh," she says. "Really? I thought that was just if you masturbated."

You choke. "That's...a myth."

*

The darkness at night doesn't seem as heavy as the permanent midnight at noon. Maybe it's the moon and the few stars that you can see past the streetlights. Maybe it's the streetlights.

Maybe it's just that you know it's okay for it to be dark after six.

*

"What time is it?" you hear, and you turn around. The guy standing in front of you is not only a fashion victim but paler than anyone not a goth or covered in pancake makeup has a right to be.

"A little after nine a.m.," you tell him, making a big show of looking at the clock over the counter.

He grins at you and his smile is really...shark-like.

"It's a beautiful morning," he says.


End file.
